Scarlet Lies
by EEstelle
Summary: Two broken hearts with twisted plans, two different people simply meant to be. They didn't intend it- they have other things to worry about. But sometimes, too many years of chasing nothing shows you that there comes a day when you just have to go for it. WEIRD PAIRING Scarlet Witch x Voldemort. But then, the pen knows what it wants, too. :) After AoU and at the end of HP Book 6.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Weird pairing, here we come! I don't know why this story is happening, but it is. When inspiration hits, you just don't fight it. I admit, I'm a bit nervous about this, but I have to write it, and I hope you all enjoy it and it doesn't turn out as some big mistake. But, so far so good, I think. If you have any characterization suggestions, please share. Please, please review! But if not, hope you like this first chapter anyway!

 **Chapter 1:** Welcome, Wanda Maximoff

Once upon a time, there was light. Once there was hope, and joy, and happily ever after. Once, there was love. But that was a lifetime ago, back before the deaths of everyone who mattered. That was before the beginning of the end.

Shadows hung dimly over the faded countryside, the bright spring day lost, the warmth of a breathing world evaporating into the falling darkness. Ghostly breezes clung to the twilight, rapping at the windows and clawing at the trees wherever blackness fell. The road was cold and empty, paved with silent whispers, weaving through the haunting mist. And then, at the conclusion of the way, there stood a manor, tall, grand, and imposing.

Soaring archways frame velvet-curtained windows and mighty, carved, wooden doors. Vast lawns blanketed in fragrant, blooming flowers expand in every direction. Ivy creeps up damp stone, penetrating the fortress with its twisted fingers, seeking refuge and sensing despair. There is no peace here, the murmuring wind seems to say. There is no solace. There is but patience, for power is coming. Power, all consuming and omnipotent- carrying the promise of a graceless world destroyed.

Pass an iron gate and walk through those fearful doors. Descend down marbled halls and spiraled steps. And then, finally, there is a room.

The room is large and cavernous. Distant walls and vaulted ceilings lay untouched by precious human light, but assorted candles dignify the hollow place. Flames dance at the edge of vision, flickering into the pressing absence. Their beams do not permeate throughout the space, but they reveal figures. Two figures, pale and wasting. Two figures, joined in that they have nothing to lose, joined in that they have so much that they might gain.

But that is still to be determined.

" _I_ _ **am**_ _who you are looking for_ ," an accented voice whispers softly, her words echoing into the abyss.

" _Very well. Let's see what you can do, sweet_ ," a sickly voice croons, her steely heart beating in anticipation.

And they fall to dangerous light.

Scarlet currents ribbon through obsidian oceans, flowing from a gentle touch into the waiting midnight. Blood-red tentacles seep into the deepest corners of a tortured mind, injecting toxic fears into the living soul. The light takes happy memories and carries them beyond the reach of hope. Sorrow remains inside the shattered victim.

For a moment, one screams in terror, crying for her stolen thoughts and breathing nightmares. The other figure holds deep, glinting eyes, resigned to what her hands can do. A moment, and she waits. A moment, and she returns the thoughts to the place from which they came.

The crying figure stops abruptly, intrigued by this terrible, mysterious power, rather than afraid. Greed and pride glow in her crazed, copper eyes as she regards the creature that wields such strange magic. The things she could do with such control. The prizes this pawn could offer.

" _What is your price, child? The Dark Lord is most gracious if your wish is fair._ "

" _Make me your apprentice, Bellatrix. Your protege, and I am yours._ "

" _Very well, sweet. Very well._ "

Scarlet engulfs the flames, and the light goes out.

 **XXX**

The freedom that resulted from his triumph was exhilarating. All of a few weeks ago, Voldemort had claimed his greatest victory, and it was only a matter of time before he surpassed even this recent accomplishment. He was pleased, oh so very pleased, for Voldemort, the Dark Lord, was all powerful. He could instill fear and raise an army. He could perform magic no other could. He had resurrected from the dead, and could live forever. And, as he recently re-established, he could steal life. And not just any life. Voldemort, the Dark Lord, had defeated the wizard many thought the greatest of all time. He had killed the foolish, old wizard Albus Dumbledore. He had proven that he alone was capable of ruling these wretched souls.

Nevertheless, he was humble, for he remembered that his destiny had taken a great deal of time in coming. He mustn't relax just yet, for there was much to do to ensure his fate. The boy Harry Potter still lived, and many misguided witches and wizards still believed that they would defeat the darkness. But that was only because they had not yet seen the darkness lurking within themselves. It would take thought and planning, certainly, but in time, even the most innocent would yield to his glory. They would all kneel, and they would all bear the misery he had once known. And finally, he would live, happily, forever.

Shaking himself from his musings, the Dark Lord stared through intense, slit-red eyes at a number of pale and weary beings sitting around a table before him. Fire from a burning hearth played on his nearly translucent face, now stretched in a gruesome smile as he surveyed his followers, the Death Eaters, waiting for someone to speak up.

For the past few hours, they'd been in conference, deliberating over various aspects of the coming war, but most particularly, they were discussing the seventeenth birthday of certain arrogant child. Just a handful of weeks, and they would attack. It would come with high cost and much effort, but with luck, he would finish Harry Potter. With luck, or more likely with careful consideration, the boy would be his.

"Nothing more to offer, my friends? Not even you, Lucius?" The wizard hissed, his voice rolling cruelly over the flinching crowd as he beamed at them. "Or you, Severus?" His countenance warped into a sneer, a bitter taste settling in his dry mouth.

"I _gave_ you what information I _could_ , my _lord_ ," the greasy, black haired man drawled, his words drawn out in odd places. The blonde man said nothing, his thin lips pursed in obvious discomfort. Voldemort chuckled, a wheezing sound, before looking at each of them in turn. Even he wasn't sure what was so funny, but he simply couldn't help himself. The fear in the eyes of one, the deliberate emotionlessness in the other- it was just so _terribly_ amusing. A room full of capable, magical creatures, and they sat there squirming under his very gaze.

"What of you, Narcissa?" He glared at the sour woman, and her pink eyes started blinking like the little rat that she was. "Or…" he trailed off, frowning as he noticed who was missing. All this time, and he hadn't even noticed.

"Where is Bella? I never thought her insolent enough to miss such an _important_ ," here he paused, lingering on each and every syllable, "meeting."

He said it as if he was angry, but in truth, he was more concerned. Bellatrix, he must admit, was one of his most loyal followers. She tended to venture too close, not straying very far for any reason that she could help, and so it puzzled him to find her absent.

Realizing that no one had replied, he repeated himself dangerously, "where is Madame Lestrange? Rodolphus?" He turned to her husband, but he simply shook his head. Bellatrix wasn't all that fond of the man she married, it was no secret. Marriage was too controlling for her. Bellatrix was a witch all her own, and any attempts to hem in her manic behavior were met with scoffs and scorns. Any attempts, unless the order came from the Dark Lord.

Holding out his arm, Voldemort pressed the skull and snake inked upon it. All present cringed, holding their own marks as inconspicuously as possible as they began to sting, but there attempts were futile. Their master ignored it, though, and they silently waited.

A minute, and there was nothing. A minute, and the heavy door at the end of the room slammed open. In minced Madame Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Forgive me for my lateness, my Lord," she whined sappily, hurrying to her seat, her fly-away curls swaying behind her. "I had some urgent business to attend to."

She was quiet for a moment, and looked expectantly to her beloved master, waiting for the discussions to continue. But he simply stared at her, the room vibrating with nervous energy.

"What business, Bella?" He questioned finally, his harsh voice soft and disturbed. "What business was of such importance that you would leave us waiting? We have been here some hours, and we have missed your presence."

Her mouth hung open, her brown eyes wide and dejected, as if she couldn't believe he would think such an inhumane thing of her. Before she could respond, he was whispering again.

"Please inform us, Bellatrix, of this crucial situation."

For a moment longer, her mouth gaped, and then she composed herself, plastering a lofty look on her proud face.

"A new recruit, my lord. I found a most fascinating pet this week, and I believe she will be _most_ useful," Bellatrix replied calmly, blinking her heavy, dark eyelids almost sweetly.

Voldemort's brow furrowed thoughtfully, wondering if the witch was serious, and if so, what would bring this cockiness. Usually, Bella sounded more like she was begging for his acceptance when she brought him news.

"A new recruit? And what about this 'pet', pray tell, has you so contented? Surely more than that has kept you?"

"She possesses power, my lord, the likes of which I have never seen!" She stated, her face alight. "No wand, and she controlled my very thoughts. She showed me things, and took memory. She infiltrates the mind, my lord. She can manipulate the _soul._ "

"You know I mustn't believe you, Bella. Such magic doesn't exist, apart from the Imperious Curse."

Under normal circumstances, she would have chortled with glee remembering the awful things that curse had accomplished, but now, she simply shook her head.

"It's different magic. _New_ magic. I've taken her under my care. She has no price, except that I train her. She will be great, my lord. She will be."

What else could he say? "Bring her."

Bellatrix cackled, and apparated away.

 **XXX**

Her name was Wanda Maximoff, and she had nothing to live for. Nothing. No home, all her family dead, and no friends to speak of. She had no future, and she was haunted by her past. All she held was a bleeding, broken heart.

And then, one day, everything changed. She still had almost nothing, but though a door closed, as it is often said, a window opened. For the first time in the many years since the passing of her beloved brother Pietro, Wanda had something to call her own. That something was hope.

Since this hope was given to her, she had been searching. It was in this search that she had found this opportunity, and afraid or not she was taking it. She would be a Death Eater. She would bear the darkness. If she must, she would spend every moment until her final hour in her quest. Without hope, she was empty. She would pay any price.

The evening was falling, and stars were just beginning to flicker out up in the midnight blue sky. On a large rock somewhere in the middle of a lonely field, Wanda sat silently, breathing in the chilled air and soaking in the peaceful atmosphere. She stared up at those twinkling stars, and almost felt like smiling again. Almost, but she'd forgotten how. Almost, but reflected in her meadow green eyes, Pietro's laughing grin flashed at her, a deep scar that would never, ever heal.

" _Where are you, Pietro? Are you there, somewhere?_ " She whispered into the night, peering up, and then bowing her head sorrowfully. He was not there. At least, not where she could see him, not where he could be there when she needed him. It had been so long, and yet, she couldn't let go, not for an instant. She kept imagining what his last moments had been like, how it had felt to be riddled with holes, becoming a sacrifice. It had been a hero's demise, but no matter how much she tried, she couldn't be at peace with that. She clenched her jaw, thinking that, knowing that she would likely die a villain's death, in this pursuit so dangerous that it could only end in vain tragedy. " _Where are you, Pietro? And would you still be proud if you could see me now?_ "

A snapping noise sounded behind her, and she turned warily, peering off into places she could not quite see, her intense eyes roving around to take in her surroundings. She sighed, relieved upon finding the cause of the disturbance. It was the distorted witch, the one called Bellatrix. She really hadn't been gone long.

"Still waiting for me?" Bella sassed, swaggering amid the grass and along the rocks towards the lovely brunette, a smirk playing on her lips despite the lack of response from the other woman. They'd been discussing some interesting forms of magic when the slightly older witch had been called away. Bellatrix had told her to run on home, but Wanda lingered. She hadn't told Bella much. She wasn't exactly one to tell her secrets.

"I had some… things, to think over." She said slowly, cryptically, partially because she didn't want to say too much and partially because english still wasn't really her language, though she had gotten better with the years. She turned back in her seat to her original position, hoping her companion would get the hint and leave. But no such luck. Bella was already babbling, and Wanda was deliberately ignoring her. That is, until she heard a very particular name.

"... the Dark Lord," she concluded, sighing loudly, in a mix of contempt and smugness that Wanda didn't believe possible until that moment.

"What?" she asked, alert.

"You're wanted by the Dark Lord, pet. Haven't you heard a word?"

Now she was suspicious, though her heart beat frantically in her chest. "What do mean, I am wanted by the Dark Lord?"

"If I'd have thought you ignorant I wouldn't have taken you," Bellatrix said nastily, though that did seem to be her way. "I have to convince him to keep you somehow. This is why you came, isn't it? You wanted a job and a part in power?"

She nodded. She had said that, even if it wasn't the entire truth. It was a good sign that the witch believed her.

Bella smiled frighteningly, but Wanda didn't flinch. "Then let's fly, pet."

The two linked arms, and Bellatrix apparated. The field was left as empty as it had ever been.

 **XXX**

Fifteen minutes, and the conversation around the anxious table at Malfoy Manor continued. Fifteen minutes, and Lord Voldemort waited, patiently anticipating the second arrival of Bellatrix. He wondered, musing, what amusement Bella would bring with her. He wondered if this 'pet' was worth anything as the Death Eater had promised. He must admit, he hoped as much. He needed a little entertainment. And honestly, he would utilize whatever resources he could get- he had proven that with Wormtail. No matter the quality, Voldemort would take whatever help was offered, and use it to its full potential. After that- well, that was a different matter entirely. But he could keep an open mind… for now.

The door creaked open, and Voldemort almost laughed to see how many of his followers jumped in their seats. However, he looked up expectantly, but then scowled upon seeing, instead of the witch, the balding head of sniveling Wormtail himself.

"S-s-sir," he nearly whistled, his nose twitching. "Madame Lestrange is bbbback."

At that, the wizard smiled coldly. "Send her in, Wormtail." The round man backed out of the room, groveling and bowing his head like the pathetic fool he was. As usual, his master ignored him.

And then, Bella was in the door. Voldemort looked past her, peering into the hall behind her to see the thing that she had brought him, but to no avail. Irritated, he flexed his fingers, shifting and pursing his lips at his servant. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, he was chiding her.

"Where is she, Bella? Did I not tell you to bring the girl? Why have you come back without the very thing you promised?"

"I have, my lord, I have!" Bella's typical begging began as soon as he cut off, and nodded slowly in approval.

"Where is she, Bella?" He repeated, as if he were talking to an exasperating child. And then, he saw her.

She came from the shadows, almost a shadow herself, appearing in the room suddenly as if she had just come into existence. Her gaze was soft, and yet fierce; proud, and yet humble. Her eyes were living green; her brunette hair cleanly swept, and yet wild. She walked like one might glide, floating on the earth as if she simultaneously owned it and belonged above it. He had not seen what she could supposedly do, but the magic flowing through her veins was obvious. She pulsed with radiating power.

He was intrigued, and stunned, which for the Dark Lord took some doing. The woman strode after Bellatrix and into the room, pausing awkwardly when the witch took her seat and she was left standing. Not knowing where the kind impulse came from, he stood, ordering Wormtail to bring her a seat and staying on his feet until a place was made and the lady was arranged comfortably.

The expressions around the room were priceless, but everyone was much too preoccupied to see what those beside them were doing. It seemed everyone was as mystified as he was. Though, maybe not quite.

He might have thought she was blushing at the humiliation of the attention she was getting, but her face stayed calm, almost as if she was wearing a mask. Not a single emotion revealed itself, not in a smile, or in a glance. Her posture betrayed slight discomfort, but hardly noticeable. He was impressed by the grace with which she entered the situation, when no other in the room would dare to act unmoved by his dangerous presence. She didn't even seem concerned.

She was staring at him with those vivid eyes, waiting to see what he had to say. Bellatrix was beaming beside her, almost bouncing in her chair, but one pointed look from her master sent her into begrudging silence.

"Your name, please?" He asked the woman softly, his slit red orbs taking on a rounder shape.

"Wanda Maximoff. They call me the Scarlet Witch," she responded with equal composure, her expression never waivering. "You wanted to see me?" She paused. "My lord?"

He didn't know why he felt compassion towards her, he didn't know why he felt compelled to trust her, but he did. "You may call me Voldemort." Now he paused, noting the suspicious looks he was getting, and realizing that wasn't his usual line. He corrected, "Lord Voldemort."

"Lord Voldemort," she said simply. Her accent was strangely beautiful. It reminded him of his time traveling around the world, but he couldn't quite place the origin. He smiled, not sure why he did it, and he was shocked when, miraculously, the woman smiled back. It was a small smile, as if she was trying it out for the first time, but it was there. It was a friendly smile, a kind smile… and yet, a pained smile. It was the smile of a soul that had seen much heartache, and it was something he could always recognize. He knew it, because it was the smile of his soul, and it held the heartache he had known.

Before, he had been planning to test her to see if Bellatrix was telling the truth. He had been planning on torturing the creature if she had failed, to send a message and have a bit of fun along the way. But now, he found that he couldn't.

"Welcome, Wanda Maximoff." He raised a glass, and the Death Eaters surrounding the table hastily joined him. "Welcome, Scarlet Witch."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hello, friendly readers! Chapter 2, here we come! Honestly, you have no idea how many times I had to rewrite this, and I'm still not sure if the writing is comprehensible, but here goes! If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please review. Any and all suggestions are welcome!

Special shout out to those who followed, favorited, and or reviewed this story so far! You have no idea how much it means to me and motivates me to write! I told myself before I started this that I would continue to post (I still would've written it, but you know...) if I even got one follow, favorite, or review, and so let me just say I love you all. :) *Passes out brownies* (Since that seems to be a thing on . :) ) Hope you enjoy!

 **Chapter 2:** For Pietro

"Again, _pet_ , unless you'd like to get yourself killed out there."

From across a sunlit field, Wanda Maximoff, also known as the Scarlet Witch, stood waiting, an exasperated look on her tired face as she warily eyed the woman in front of her.

It was late afternoon, sometime in mid to late July, and for the last three weeks, the two witches, Wanda and Bellatrix, had been vigorously training.

"Again, _pet_! What did I say?"

Wanda's hair was sticking to her neck and forehead, her eyes hardly focusing, and her knees wobbling beneath her. For three weeks, she'd been dealing with Bella's erratic behavior, and she couldn't believe she'd lasted so long. One more game of "use your magic to throw things at me" and Wanda was almost sure she would retaliate, whether she knew what she was doing or not.

"Fine," the dark witch sneered. "I guess it's my turn."

Wanda barely had time to raise her hands before an electric current shot out of Bellatrix' wand and came racing towards her heart. A stream of crimson flew from her fingers, absorbing the green sparks just centimeters away. Bella laughed and sent another few spells, all of which were thankfully caught before they could do any damage. Wanda scowled at her, as she dodged yet another blow, this time by leaping aside.

"Naughty, naughty!" Bellatrix chided. "Mustn't dodge like that, sweet, you'll run out of energy. What ever will I do with you?"

"I don't know," she replied, huffing. She thought the comments a little ridiculous, considering the fact that she was completely exhausted anyway. She couldn't believe that the other woman still looked so pale in her black cloak with her dark hair heating her neck. In comparison, the younger woman was pink and flushed, wore a simple white t-shirt and shortened pants, and had her brunette curls swept into a ponytail. At least, she thought it was called a ponytail. Such an odd word, she mused listlessly. Human hair had absolutely nothing to do with a pony.

Even such a small distraction as that fleeting thought, and the next thing Wanda knew, she was flying into the air. She landed about a yard to the side of her original position, all the wind knocked out of her, and yelped slightly when her shoulder hit a fist-sized rock, her cheek scraping the earth.

"Bet that one hurt."

The witch really wasn't one for sympathy, was she? Wanda sat up slowly, a hand to her slightly bleeding face, the beginnings of a few bruises already starting to show on her pale skin.

Bella closed the distance, and as she approached, Wanda responded as she got to her feet. "It's not the first time I've been thrown today."

"Nor is it the last."

At least she was honest.

"And yet again, then?" Her accent seemed more pronounced when she was in pain, so the dark haired woman had to ask her to repeat herself. She did, and she was surprised when her mentor shook her head.

"No, the sun's going, we've been at it all day."

Wanda hadn't realized the setting sun until that moment, as she watched the golden rays dancing in the shattered gaze of her mistress.

"Take some time, sweet, and when the light goes, we'll have some _fun_." Bellatrix' nose scrunched up at that, the glee evident in her wicked smile. She looked like she was plotting some delightful new form of torture, and Wanda hated to think that that was probably the case.

"I have things to do. Be sure not to wander off. Til midnight, pet."

And with that, Bellatrix was gone.

For a moment, Wanda simply stared at the spot where Bellatrix had apparated, and then, reminded of her aching… well, entire body… she limped over to a rock and sat down.

Less than a month ago, on a very strange night, Wanda had met the Dark Lord. Whatever she'd been expecting at Malfoy Manor, it wasn't the reality. From what she had gathered, Lord Voldemort was known for his brutality, and instead of living up to that legend, he had simply asked her name, welcomed her, and continued with the discussion. Such a strange turn of events. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

Sitting there, she found her mind drifting back to that night. It seemed such a long time ago, and yet, it was no time at all. She remembered even the small details.

Upon entering the dimly lit room, she'd looked around at the vast variety of terrifying faces and wanted to run out immediately. There was a time when she would have done just that, but not now. Instead, she steeled herself and wiped the slate of her emotions clean. If anything, she had become exceptional at hiding her true feelings.

As she'd entered in Bellatrix' wake, she'd quickly scanned the crowd to see what information she could glean. There, a man in the corner with dark hair and light skin. He was staring at her, and she captured a fleeting thought- " _wonder what he's gonna do to this one_." Another, a woman this time, blonde and prudish- " _poor girl. She's got no idea what she's getting into. How very unfortunate._ " Beside her, a younger man, also blonde and bearing similar features; all she got from that one was " _bloody hell_." It was about that time that her nerves overwhelmed her, and the signals became too mixed for her to read anyone else.

Her eyes took in the entire group, then landed last on the pale figure at the very end of the table, farthest from her. He was studying her with the strangest look on his face, and she had to fight not to respond. She knew who he was, and she was afraid of what he would say next. His next words might determine her future. His next words might condemn her to death.

And then, she didn't know what happened, but she was seated at the table beside Bellatrix and a sallow blond man. All eyes were upon her, and the Dark Lord was _beaming_ at her, of all things, and for some unexplainable reason she was _smiling back_. And they toasted her, raising their glasses in her behalf, and she was sure that things were so very wrong. She had expected a test. Or torture. Or some form of interrogation. But not this, never this. She wondered why they were welcoming her, why this _Lord Voldemort_ was welcoming her, when in her mind, this was far from where she belonged.

At the time, she'd been far too nervous to really absorb the situation. But now, after so many weeks of thinking about nothing but training, she finally allowed herself to consider him. Interesting. Until that moment, she hadn't realized how much she'd noticed, and how much Lord Voldemort's demeanor had been irritating her.

From the beginning, she'd seen the way they (the Death Eaters) looked to him, the respect, and fear, and even... loathing. From Bellatrix alone she saw obsession, the way the witch clung to his every word. She noticed how every soul inside the place felt strongly where he was concerned, and she couldn't say she blamed them. He was so intense, so ethereal, so enigmatic. She wondered why she hadn't seen it before.

She remembered trying to read him, and at the time, it hadn't seemed odd, but now it seemed very strange that she couldn't. She couldn't explain it, she couldn't pinpoint his emotions, for the feelings were so mixed within him, so contrary and complicated. Most people held a few emotions at a time, and specific thoughts would find their way to her. But not with the Dark Lord. It was as if he were at war with himself.

And then, she realized that he was watching her. His eyes were not on her, but one word did whisper in his mind- chillingly, it was her name. _Wanda_. She felt as if _he_ was attempting to peer into _her_ soul. She couldn't shake her insecurity; it was so unnerving.

She tried to picture his face in her mind- his pale skin and slit, crimson eyes- tried to peer into his soul and discover the emotions that, annoyingly, she could not decipher. It seemed his attention was fixated on her from the moment she walked in the door. It was terrifying, knowing that he was a murderer, that he had smiled at her, and she sensed that there was a reason. It was terrifying, for it dawned on her that she was lying to him. How to lie, when you're being watched?

She calmed herself, though. She'd seen so many worse things in life; how could she truly be afraid of this man? His behavior was simply strange, she thought, coming back to the field shadowed in fading sunlight. Very strange, indeed.

 **XXX**

Where was that _insolent_ witch? He'd told her exactly when he needed her, he'd told her that it was of crucial importance that she arrive on time. And after his careful instructions, she'd still had the nerve to leave him waiting there in an upstairs room of Malfoy Manor.

Ever since the arrival of the other witch, Bellatrix had become even more insufferable. He'd thought it couldn't get worse than her nagging and obsessive need for approval, but he had been proven wrong. From the moment the Scarlet Witch arrived, Bella had been disappearing for long stretches of time, forgetting important details of his delicate plan, and whenever she was around, she acted even more proud and manic than even he was accustomed to. It was as if Wanda Maximoff was a prize she'd procured, and she was more than delighted to play mistress to the woman.

In all honesty, however, he knew he should be glad that Bella was distracted. Madame Maximoff was exceptional, he'd seen that in the first minute. He couldn't deny her potential, even with the little he knew about her, and if she could keep Bella out of his way during these times of waiting and planning, he should be grateful. But something about the whole situation still irritated him.

Nevertheless, he would use the situation to his advantage. Now was not a time to become angry over petty things.

Just then, the doors flung open, and there, her hair flying wildly in her face, stood Bellatrix Lestrange.

He thought, but didn't say, "speak of the devil." Instead, he glared at her, his eyes so narrow that his pupils were just visible.

"Where, pray tell, have you been, Madame Lestrange? I've been…" he trailed off. Then, gritting his teeth, "...worried."

"I've been in training, my lord! The girl is far from ready, and there is much to be done! I beg forgiveness, I live to serve!"

So typical. The witch was groveling again.

"Well, she shall have to be ready. Are you aware of the coming attack? I should hope, unless you've somehow forgotten our delicate position."

His steely eyes bore into her coldly, waiting for a response. As was becoming more and more common, she looked offended at the insult, her eyebrows knit, her heavy copper eyes pleading with him. And then, she seemed to register the first thing he'd said.

Her mouth opened, about to protest. "But she's not…"

He cut her off with a sharp glance. "She must be, Bella. Tomorrow, Severus has informed me of the boy's movement. I need her. Tomorrow, we will see what she can do."

With that, he swept past the witch, pausing just before the door frame as she called out to him.

"But my lord, she is not ready!"

He swiveled abruptly, then nearly flew back to the witch, towering over her, his face so close that she could feel his frozen breath on her face. Nevertheless, Bellatrix plowed on.

"Might I suggest a more… appropriate time?" she whispered.

Probably because he'd never heard Bella defy him, he stepped back, shocked, though he did not otherwise show it.

"The ministry…" she trailed off.

Light from the falling sun that drifted through the window glinted in his eyes, and a small smile played on his lips.

"As you request, Bellatrix. Very well."

 **XXX**

When Bellatrix arrived back at the field, Wanda was pacing there in the pitch blackness. It was midnight, as she had promised, and the only sound was that of a few creatures rustling around somewhere off and away.

She could tell the witch was thinking rather intently on something or another, and that whatever it was was giving her considerable grief. She kept mumbling under her breath, and when Bella finally stepped into her circular path, Wanda tensed and let off a small spurt of red light. The dark witch dodged just in time, grabbing the other's wrist before she could try it again.

"Anxious, sweet?" she teased, though in a menacing way, as always.

"Madame Lestrange? I am truly sorry. I was… thinking again," Wanda explained, relaxing as Bella released her.

"Think before you curse. Now, then, it's time we leave," the woman said, peering intently into the nothingness, though there was no way she could see anything.

"Where are we going? I thought we were training?"

Bella didn't say anything, but she held out her arm. It took Wanda a moment to see it, but she knew better than to ask again. She took the proffered arm, and they apparated.

 **X**

Wanda would never get used to apparition. She felt nauseous after every trip, the pressure building up behind her eyes and her vision blurring, her stomach clenching. Still, she would never tell her mistress that. Bellatrix already thought it strange that she couldn't cast typical spells or disappear and reappear at will. She didn't want to seem any more inferior than she already felt.

When the world finally slowed, it didn't do much to help her figure out she was, however. If it was even possible, it was even darker here, the blackness so thick it was almost tangible. She reached into the air then, feeling for anything. At least she knew she was standing on stone, and that was something. After a few seconds, though, her senses came back to her, and she held out her hand for a different purpose, sending out a red tentacle of light.

It ribboned into the space, then branched out, winding its way around what appeared to be the edges of a semi-round room. Stark or Banner, being the scientists that they were, would have said it looked like a neuron, sending signals back and forth along its twisting spine. In a moment, the tendrils began climbing, up the walls and onto the ceiling, a fluorescent spider web. She finally saw the place for what it was- a large, circular cave.

"I could have told you where we were, you know."

Wanda turned to face the dark woman, now bathed in the mysterious glow, and she thought Bella more terrifying then than she had ever been. She'd forgotten in her stupor that the witch was there.

"Lumos," she said simply, and the tip of her wand sent out a beam much like a flashlight. The Scarlet Witch lowered her hands, and the web vanished gradually.

It was only when the evidence of her magic was completely gone that Wanda noticed that there was something else in the room. It hadn't been there before, but behind her mentor, a dim, wispy substance seemed to float out of the crevices on the wall.

For a minute she watched, unable to shift her gaze away as whatever it was formed, becoming more and more lifelike as the seconds ticked by. Finally, she thought to say something, to warn Bella. But when she looked at the face marked by wand-light, the witch seemed ready to cackle, and she knew- Bellatrix was doing this.

She turned back to the substance, and then it was more than a substance. It was a figure, a _person_. Coming out of the wall and gliding towards her, it became real. At least, she would have thought it real if not for two facts. First, she could _see_ it, as if it were daytime for the individual alone. And second, she couldn't decide _who_ it was. Every time she thought she knew, it morphed, becoming someone else.

It took a minute for her to register the sound, but it occurred to her that Bellatrix had said something.

"What?" She blinked, tensely focused on the person, or unperson, or whatever it was.

"Pick someone."

"What do you mean, pick someone?" Now she was thoroughly confused, but Bella seemed delighted.

"Pick! It will become anyone you desire."

Wanda glanced away again, finding Bella's haunting figure.

"Why?" she asked. Wanda had learned long ago not to be trusting, and so such an odd request, in such an odd place, in the middle of the night just felt like a trap.

"Just choose. It won't hurt you."

For some reason, that just made her suspicion that much worse. But, she had to admit she was curious. And if the Death Eater hadn't killed her yet, she probably wouldn't. As long as she didn't figure out why Wanda was really becoming a Death Eater.

So, she considered, staring at the creature with all her might. Though she was pretending to weigh her options, she knew immediately who she would think of. Without knowing when it happened, the creature morphed, and suddenly, it wasn't many people, but one.

Staring at her out of the darkness, Wanda laid eyes on her beloved brother.

" _Pietro_ ," she whispered, tears forming in her glassy green eyes. He smiled, his characteristic grin lighting up not only the blackness, but her entire world. She smiled back then, her bottom lip still quivering ever so slightly. She didn't know why, but she couldn't say anything more, her feet stuck to the cold rock, a lump forming in her throat.

And then, she broke free, and she was running to him, stumbling only slightly, her arms extended to embrace him. She reached him, and she went to touch him, and then… there was nothing. Her hand went through his very fabric, and she was looking into his face with shock, and she was begging him to tell her why she couldn't touch him. But he didn't say anything. He had no words, he didn't even do anything but float there above the earth, smiling and silent.

"He's not real, dear. He's still dead, you know."

Wanda turned on the woman, hatred and anger and overwhelming grief filling her up, her fists clenching and unclenching, unsure what they were supposed to do. And then, she fell to the floor.

Her fists balled into her eyes, tears now racing down her cheeks, and she was sobbing like a little girl. It had been so many years, so, so many, and yet, the wound was fresh and new and _permanent_. No. Not permanent. Because this couldn't be forever. It couldn't. Forever was much too long a wait.

She didn't realize that Bellatrix was next to her until she felt an arm around her shoulder. Peering up through her wet lashes, she saw the look Bella was giving her, and she was grateful, so grateful to have her. The witch wasn't usually one for kindness, but this was her protege, her greatest triumph. And unbeknownst to Wanda, this Scarlet Witch was her ticket to the Dark Lord's approval. And that was all that Bella had ever wanted.

"Who is he, Wanda? Who do you see?"

"My… my brother… he...he died… so…" she couldn't say more, so she just shook her head. Bellatrix stroked her hair, tsking. When Wanda's tears finally subsided, Bella lifted her to her feet, and said, gently, "pick someone else, sweet. Don't think about him, pick someone else."

Shaking, Wanda stood up, and then, somehow, the Scarlet Witch took over. She stared at the entity that was not her brother, and the first face that came to her mind appeared. It was Natasha, Black Widow, a friend from her distant past. She looked at the kind eyes, and quirked smile, and she missed this face. But she didn't cry.

No, she didn't cry when she saw this face- her expression was controlled and motionless, as she had learned to make it. And then, she waited, to see what her mistress would have her do.

The insanity was back- she could feel the cruel glee radiating off of the witch. She should have expected the words before they were said.

"Read her."

Wanda almost asked her to repeat herself, to clarify, but all of a sudden she knew. Bellatrix wanted her to use her magic.

"Read her, use her memory against her. Read her, twist her mind. Read her," the witch commanded, on the verge of cackling.

Wanda glanced at her sharply. Why would she tell her to do that? Especially after… what had just happened? Why read a hologram? Not to mention, she wouldn't.

"No," she stated, firm. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Read her. She is a friend, is she not?"

"Yes, and I make it a point to protect my friends, not use them."

"Read her. Use her mind against her. Don't worry, her actual memories are there. You'll be able to do it."

"Did you not hear me? No. I do not toy with my friends."

"Read her, Wanda. Read her. Just do it. If you must know, this is your training. You must do this, Wanda. You must."

"No! Why? Why would I do such a thing?"

"To prove that you can! Be the Scarlet Witch! Be the villain! Prove that you are loyal, that you will use your power, that you will _take_ power, that you _deserve_ the power you are about to receive! Prove it, Wanda! I do not expect you to betray your brother, not yet, but this woman? You must show me that you are able to make whatever sacrifice, no matter how high the cost. Prove it, Wanda. Prove it. _Read her_."

Bellatrix was so commanding, her eyes alight and her glee horrifying.

"Do it, or you will never be a Death Eater. Do it, or power will never be yours."

Wanda was not concerned with power, but the words sank in. _You will never be a Death Eater_ … _prove it_ … _betray your brother_ …

If she did this, she would be betraying Natasha. She would be betraying her friends, and the morals she had set when she received her power. She would be betraying her past, and worse, she would be betraying herself.

But she'd seen Pietro. Illusion or not, he was real to her, and somewhere beyond, somewhere she had not yet found, he was waiting. She couldn't give up on him yet. She couldn't. She had to become a Death Eater. She needed to. She must.

She felt the darkness writhing within her as she raised her arms. Her eyes began to glow scarlet, as the red liquid light poured from her fingers and snaked their way up Natasha's form.

As the venom injected itself into the waiting mind, Natasha's eyes grew large and terrified. She squirmed, mouthing what might have been, " _No, please, don't, Wanda!_ " The Scarlet Witch looked guiltily away, but she didn't stop.

And then, images were flashing in her mind, visions of every joy and every pain the assassin had ever known. She saw things she had never imagined, things that explained everything she'd never understood about the woman.

All that, and she held her head, trying to block it out, but knowing she couldn't and that she wouldn't. As horrible as it was, it could become worse. She couldn't believe it, but it could. She took the thoughts, and she twisted them. She made it worse.

Finally, the thoughts left, and she was lost in the silence. She was breathing hard, and shaking severely. She looked up, afraid, and she saw the figure that was Natasha. She was screaming, a scream that couldn't be heard, but was nevertheless real. Surprisingly, it was even more terrible that way.

"Send her away," Bellatrix prompted. Wanda did, and when she glance back, it was Hawkeye that stood in her place. He was unbidden this time, but he was there.

"Again," Bellatrix crooned.

Tears she could not cry filled her eyes. But she did.

 **XXX**

For the millionth time in so many days, Voldemort found himself wondering, agitatedly, where that impossible witch was.

He'd called her a few times already, and although he knew it was the middle of the night, it was urgent. The rest of the Death Eaters were already gathered, and there was no time. In less than twenty-four hours, they would attack the home of Harry Potter. There was so much to do before then.

That Bellatrix. That wretched woman. He would go without her, but he didn't like loose ends. She was too involved. Why wouldn't she answer such a direct call? It was probably that pet of hers, that Scarlet Witch, that _Wanda_. He didn't know why thinking about her caused him so much agitation these days. She just did.

Well, there wasn't much he could do. He would find her.

The Dark Lord closed his eyes, muttered a spell under his breath, and searched for her mind.

Normally, such a thing was not possible, but with the dark mark and a few curses she'd allowed him to cast on her, Voldemort was able to keep track of the location of his most loyal.

He looked around, his eyes shivering in their sockets, his mind careening through twisted space and deep tunnels until he could see her.

She was enveloped in darkness, but for a few small lights, and she was hunched over, alone. Or so it seemed at first, until she shifted, and he could see the woman beside her.

It was Wanda Maximoff, and she was weeping. Tears streamed from her beautiful face in unrelenting torrents, and from the agony written in her eyes, he might have thought the entire world had ended. That happiness had ceased to exist.

He was shocked, and concerned, and he honestly couldn't believe he cared. The Dark Lord was not one for empathy. He was not one to concern himself with the concerns of others. He loved power, and power alone. He would seek happiness for himself, and no one else. Why did he care for her pain?

But he did, and before he knew what he was doing, he was flying, soaring away on a cloud of smoke to the place of the suffering. Whoever was causing that heartache would pay. Whoever had done this would die.

It took him some time to locate them, but a few minutes, and he knew he'd found them. Nevertheless, when he came to the cave opening, he hesitated, holding his wand in both hands, considering.

A moment, and he stared into the abyss, wondering why he did not want to enter. And then, he pushed whatever it was aside, and walked in.

There was a figure by the wall, glowing, growing large and green, with anger in its face. He thought it was the culprit for an instant, but then he recognized the magic. It wasn't real.

Standing off to one side was Bellatrix, pride in her visage.

And before the monster was Wanda, a mask on her face but lingering pain, and determined hope, resting in the calloused eyes that had been crying only minutes ago.

When Bella saw him, her mouth gaped, and then widened into a grotesque grin. And then, there was a touch of confusion, as she inwardly questioned why he was there.

"Ah…" And with that one syllable, Wanda's gaze was on him. Seeing that there was no danger, and that she appeared to be fine, (even if she probably wasn't,) he felt foolish for being there. This was so out of character for him, and he wasn't sure what to say. It took a few seconds, but he finally came up with something believable, that was actually true, even if not entirely.

"Bella, you're late. I've been calling, and there is much to do. Why have you been ignoring me?" The cruel hiss of his own voice was comforting, reminding him who he was and what he was supposed to act like.

"My lord, I am so, so…"

"Save it Bella. Come."

And with one last glance at Wanda, he turned on his heel and walked out, knowing Bella would follow.

Bellatrix looked at Wanda, and said a few parting words that the witch did not catch. As she left, the Scarlet Witch asked a final question.

"Where are you going?"

"I told you, pet. To get Harry Potter."

And she, too, walked out.

Wanda Maximoff was left in the blackness, with nothing but her tortured thoughts to comfort her as had happened so many times in her life already. She had done it for Pietro, but she was afraid it was only the first step into inevitable darkness. She had done it, but she was afraid of where it would take her. What was she becoming?

She sat on the floor, exhausted as she always seemed to be these days. Her eyes started to flutter as the midnight settled over her. She thought of Harry Potter, and she wondered what they would do to him. She pitied him, as she imagined his fate, bleeding into nothingness, haunted by those slit-crimson eyes. She wondered what would have happened if the Avengers were still here, if she was still a hero. If they knew there was a whole world left that still needed saving.

Her last thoughts were of those slit-crimson eyes, the eyes of a murderer that would likely walk free, the eyes of a murderer she was helping. Her last thoughts were of those slit-crimson eyes, and the look she thought she had seen in them as he walked away, if for only a moment. Her last thoughts were of those slit-crimson eyes, haunting her, too, as sleep and inevitable nightmares slowly, painfully, overtook her.

 **A/N:** So, hope it was satisfactory! Hope the pacing's okay, but if it's not, you know where to find me. Also, things will probably pick up next chapter, and probably even more in the next. So, you have that to look forward to. Goodbye, and have a fabulous week!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hello, readers! Welcome, and hope you're enjoying the story so far! As I live in the US, and this week is the Thanksgiving holiday, I would like to begin by briefly bidding a happy Thanksgiving to you all, and by saying thank you to all of you for favoriting, following, reviewing, and even reading this story! Trust me, you are all amazing, and I couldn't do this without the support. *Passes out pumpkin pie*

On topic for this chapter, I would like to say that this is probably my personal favorite so far. Just a warning, it is a lot of description, and you've probably noticed that I lean towards the introspection side of writing rather than the dialogue, but the action has picked up a bit. Sad day, Wanda and Voldey aren't speaking yet, but that is definitely coming next chapter, I promise! (Please don't hate me.) Anyway, please enjoy!

 **Chapter 3:** Falling

She woke to find the suffocating blackness, pressing in on every side. Where was she? Why was she in this place? Why was there no light, no comforting glow to lead her out of this hell of nightmares? She bolted upright, peering into nothing with large round eyes, her hands gripping at the cold floor and the damp, distorted wall behind her. For a moment she panicked, breathing heavily as she waited for tortured visions of death and pain to leave her, for the terror of a past reality to abate. And then, she remembered.

Wanda Maximoff found herself in a cave, and she remembered all that had happened there in the earliest hours of the morning. She remembered the glowing figure, and it's twisted forms. She remembered Bella's order and bitter cackling, Bella's twisted face. She remembered red-tinged ribbons of her friend's haunted memories. She remembered pushing away the darkness, as it slowly overtook her. She remembered crying, as she watched Pietro tear her heart out again. And she remembered the Dark Lord, there and then gone, right before sleep claimed another victim.

For a few minutes, or maybe just short of forever, the witch sat in silence, processing the information as if it were happening all over. She let out a shaky sigh, then, and slowly forced herself to her feet.

Pacing around the perimeters of the cave, she tried to recall just where Bellatrix and Lord Voldemort had gone. They were there, and the Dark Lord was saying something, and then Bellatrix up and left with a parting phrase. What was it?

" _I told you, pet. To get Harry Potter."_

All of a sudden, it came to her, and her breath caught in her chest. They were going after Harry Potter. They were going to kill an almost seventeen year old boy that had escaped death sixteen years ago. And last night, with all that had gone on, she'd just accepted it and waited while they went.

Though she did not know the boy, and she'd heard very little about him, she did know a few things. For one, he'd been orphaned as a young child, his parents brutally murdered by the wizard she was trying to join. He was also the reason the said dark wizard had disappeared for many years, before returning with a vengeance. Harry Potter had evaded death multiple times as the Dark Lord continued to attack him, and for that, he was hated and despised more than any other among the Death Eaters.

She felt she understood this Harry, though she did not know him. He'd been left alone through no fault of his own, left with two impossible options- to live in hate and seek revenge, or to shoulder the burden and learn to move on. But how could he? How could he move past this great loss, when Lord Voldemort still hunted him, the constant reminder of the family he had never known? How could he move on, when the world looked to him with hope, and he had seen so little of it? How could he, when his love had been taken and ripped apart? She understood that. It had been done to her. And look how those wounds still gaped open, bleeding into every thought and every choice she ever made.

Suddenly certain, she scanned around determinedly until she found the place from which Voldemort had come in before, the place where the rock did not block her way. Feeling around, as she could not see, she made her way down a tunnel, made a few turns, and saw a pinprick of light. She began to run, scraping her shoes along the pebbled earth and just managing not to fall, until the light grew, and became a great opening into the living world.

She stopped just in time, teetering on the edge of a steep, sloping cliff. She couldn't believe what she saw, then, for below her and out into the late afternoon, she beheld the infinite ocean.

The tide was just coming in, it's great reaping fingers clutching at the shore, it's shadowed depths whirling with the promise of mysterious life. Crashing waves of ashen blue-green spread beyond the barriers, their salty scent carrying up to the wind-washed child above them, churning with irresistible power. Off through the air, rays of fiery light burnt through the atmosphere and over the endless depths, fading as time doused their daily flames. Flying on hopeful, dirt-worn wings, seabirds soared above, in search of something more.

For a moment, Wanda was mesmerized, so small, but so free as she saw this lonely world. Taken by the unexpected magic of it, she wondered how all this time, she'd been trapped within a suffocating cave, when just beyond her view, the beckoning ocean had been waiting. Really, she didn't have time to pause and consider it, but she did, because her senses told her to. She felt something there by the seaside- she felt connected in a way that she hadn't for a very long time. For a moment, she stood there, staring at the water while the sun fell, wishing she could stay and never go back to the haunting reality of her life. And then, Harry Potter drifted back to her mind, and the peace of wishful thinking was finished.

Now, she looked around for a purpose, her eyes shifting over the cliff and water, in search of something, anything to get her down and away. She had to find the boy Harry, she had to stop them from hurting him. She didn't know how she would do it, but for Pietro, she would be the hero one more time. It would not bring him back to her, but it would be what he would want of her, expect of her, and she would do many things, but she would not let a mere child die.

Finally, her gaze shifted to the wall above her, and she found what she needed. At least, she hoped it would work. There, growing precariously, was a spindly, half-dead tree.

Already knowing she couldn't climb up to get it, she instead walked as far onto the ledge as she dared and closed her eyes. Reaching into her mind, she summoned a red stream of energy, reaching out her hand and envisioning what she wanted. The energy sprung from her palm and raced away to the plant, spiralling up and down the trunk until she chose the perfect branch. Wrapping around the base, the substance glowed brightly before there was a sudden explosion. The dead branch cracked and separated from the tree, and suddenly, it was falling, plummeting through mid air directly towards Wanda. Focusing, the witch sent out another burst of scarlet, catching the the object as it came, and setting it with a soft thunk onto the ground. She opened her eyes, and she had what she needed. It was time to go.

Mimicking the witches and wizards she'd been spending time with lately, Wanda flung one leg over the wood as if she were mounting a broomstick. Steeling herself, and hoping this wasn't turning into one of the worst ideas of her life, (which was saying something,) she imagined the magic lifting the branch once more, hovering in the air. As she did so, her hands began to glow on the handle that she was now holding, and she felt a jolt as she began to rise. Terror gripped her heart, but even alone, she didn't let it show or consume her. She didn't allow another moment of hesitation, she kicked off of the ground that she could barely touch, and instantly, she was soaring across the bay.

The wind buzzed in her ears and salt stung her eyes and nose, the dry crystals settling on her lips, but she couldn't afford to become distracted, or she hated to think of the consequences. She didn't look down, but kept her mind on her magic, willing it to carry her away. Out over the open ocean, out into the sunset, and then, up over the rock and back to civilization.

It didn't take her long to realize she'd never make it. Lowering her head and tightening her fists, not knowing and therefore not caring where she was going, she let out as much energy as she could muster. Instantaneously, the craft took off like a rocket over the countryside, smoke trailing in her wake, sparks igniting and dying with the wind. She grew dizzy, but she kept on, weaving in and out of clouds while the night grew cool.

After an indefinite amount of time, she slowed, exhausted even with her semi-recent sleep, when she found herself above a series of flickering towns. Circling down like a plane in landing, she dismounted finally in the middle of an empty alley, bracing herself against an old brick wall.

For some unknown reason, she felt she had been brought here. Somewhere in her mind, it seemed another mind was calling to her, as if it had lead her to this place for a purpose, as if it knew something that she didn't.

It only took her a few minutes, and she discovered that she was right.

The stars above were suddenly blocked out by midnight shadows, chasing each other into the blooming darkness. Voices and colored lightning whistled through the air, screams and frantic cursing chilling her pulsing blood. At the moment, she didn't know what to do- she was stuck to the spot, watching as deathly angels surrounded strange creatures and carriers, a number of spiraling brooms, and their fierce riders.

Some left and some were forced to stay- some rushed for safety and some clashed dangerously upon a twisted battlefield. She couldn't see their faces, she could only see their forms, but the intense emotions rained down on her with the spattering blood of victims, warm and pained and horrible.

She took it in, and something within her screeched at her to do something. Every nerve twitching, she summoned her magic to send up a fatal surge, not knowing who she should attack, but prepared to anyway. And then, something, or rather someone, captured her attention.

He was unmistakable- though he wore a similar cloak, though he was of a similar size, though he should have been like all the others, he was not. Directly up and in front of her, pale and mysterious and haunting, Lord Voldemort flew on smokey wings, his wand outstretched. Anger, power, and determination enshrouded him in a swirling vortex.

His fingers were long and bony, seeking souls, like those belonging to a grim reaper. His eyes glowed, fiery and focused, menacing in ways that she had not yet seen. Cold rubies set in deep sockets, surrounded by ghostly skin. It was a face that would make grown men cry and scream, a face not even a mother could love for the fear that it instilled, but in that inexplicable moment, Wanda couldn't tear her gaze away.

She had to see what would happen. She wished she hadn't.

A wizard, strong and imposing, sat upon a broom with a dark-haired youth. The Dark Lord was coming for them, his hungry smile evident even from her distance.

The younger man began shrieking as the hissing snake came towards them- the older man dodged precariously, attempting to restrain the fearful one. As she watched, the Dark Lord kept coming, curses ringing from his mouth, fangs bared, speaking unspeakable words. A few seconds and the prey struggled to get away, far from here, far from this wretched place with its beckoning demons. A few more seconds, and the coward broke free, evaporating into the night. An instant, a second, a breath, and Voldemort was there, a curse already flying towards the man that did not stay. The space revealed its emptiness, but there was someone behind it, waiting. The older one remained to take the blow.

The green, electric current raced into his brave, last-beating heart- a cold, hollow look plastered itself onto his face. Voldemort was livid, but Wanda didn't have a chance to consider why. As he careened away, the shell of the one who was once alive fell, and tortured cries followed him as he plummeted to an early grave.

But there was no one to stop for him, no one that could break off and mourn and move his lifeless body. There was no one to see as, achingly, he tumbled from the obsidian sky, alone into death. There was only Wanda, the girl that would become a Death Eater, the girl that did not know him and did not save him, the girl who knew too much of death and had lost everyone she loved.

As the battle moved on, she heard the cries- " _Harry Potter! The real Harry Potter!_ " Another soul, destined for the beyond. But how could she leave this man? How could she leave him in the gutter, broken? He was so close to the earth now, descending in slow motion. With everything she had, she set sparks along burning oxygen, lifting the form just before the ground, and laying him gently onto frigid cement.

She would come back. She had to come back. She would find a place for him, a place where he could rest, but right now, she was an Avenger for the last time, and she could rescue Harry Potter. She could be the hero, before she laid that part of her to the weeping dust.

Mounting her makeshift broomstick, she hovered just above the earth, as high as she could go, and skimmed along the streets as swiftly as she could.

Smoke and bile filled her mouth, and her vision swam, but still she went. She followed the figures that played their game beneath the twinkling sky, and soon she found the Dark Lord.

His wand was outstretched, and the dark-haired boy from before was there, but this one was different. He didn't radiate fear, he radiated hope. No matter how much the same they looked, they were not, she knew.

And the boy's arm outstretched, too, and two wooden wands pointed end to end, and met in the middle. And they were flying, and falling in flashing light, and she didn't know what happened, but suddenly, there seemed to be an invisible wall. The boy and a large man that was with him plowed away beyond, and out of sight. And Lord Voldemort, like the man he'd just killed, came falling from the heavens.

He was a murderer. He deserved to die, she thought as he came, somehow knocked unconscious. The Death Eaters were too far to do anything still, fighting off in other directions with other witches and wizards, and so she was alone again to see where this would lead, to see that the man who had destroyed so many lives suffered death and killed no more.

Would he return if he died again? She didn't know how he'd done it the first time, but she wanted to know, needed to know. And he should die, even with the possibility of resurrection. He was a murderer. If he lived, he would kill again. He deserved to die, and all she had to do was let him fall.

She thought of her parents, and the man that had taken them away. She'd thought she'd forgiven Tony Stark for his part, but she realized then that she had not. And what of Pietro? Though he was killed by an attacking army of robotic warriors, even that came back to Stark, the creator of Ultron. In that moment, she forgot her and her twin's part in Ultron's birth. It was so much easier to hate and blame. So why would she save this man from gruesome death, why would she stop his fall when he had taken that from so many, particularly this Harry Potter, who was so much like her? How was she allowing herself to join this evil soul?

And after all this, she had to save him. Every one of these thoughts swirled through her mind in less than an instant, but she already knew what she would do. Before he could fall more than a few feet, scarlet currents of light wrapped around his form, bringing him softly onto nearby grass. She ran to him, not knowing why she did it, and kneeled beside him. She checked for breathing, murmuring every curse from her childhood she could remember, worriedly. Finding him to be okay but for a few small cuts and bruises, she breathed deeply, and lay, completely drained, on the lawn next to him.

Next thing she knew, she was asleep, and she didn't know how she'd gotten there. In her dream, she saw Voldemort, his blank face peering out of nothing, and a voice was whispering. She couldn't hear it, and so she listened harder.

 _"Wanda. Wanda. Wanda Maximoff. Wanda, Scarlet Witch. Wanda."_

It was his voice, hissing and hollow, and intense, and complex, holding emotions she could not decipher. It was his voice, and she realized- this was the voice that had lead her to the battle. This was the voice that had lead her to find the place after she was left alone in the cave. It simply said her name, and she knew to follow. She had to, she must. It felt like destiny.

 _"Why did I follow you? Why did I save you?"_ She didn't understand, she didn't comprehend why she had cared, why she'd had to save him.

 _"You can sense it, Wanda. You can see in me what others can not. You can bring to me what I was deprived of in childhood. You alone can change the coming future- for me, for yourself, and for the world."_

 _"I can't! I don't know how! And what of Pietro? What of his future? Do you know why I am here? Do you know why I must take this darkness? I must, you don't understand! I must…"_

When the voice came back, it was a new voice, deep and eternal, and she didn't know where it had come from, and she didn't know why it was speaking to her instead. She had no idea where Lord Voldemort had gone, and it was entirely dark now, but the words resonated, nevertheless, in her very bones.

 _"You must bring peace, Wanda. You must bring peace, and you mustn't be afraid. Don't be afraid of me, Wanda Maximoff. Don't be afraid of me like he is."_

And then there was a face rising from the shadow, and it was ethereal. Pain and tears and memory played on haunting loops where his features should have been, except for two infinite obsidian eyes. The figure was draped in an abyssal cloak, and raven's wings fanned silkily behind him. Whispering spirits drifted softly around him, enshrouding him in forgotten mist.

 _"I am Death, Wanda Maximoff,"_ the figure said without words. _"I am Death, and many fear me. You fear me. You try to take what is rightfully mine. You wish your brother back, but he waits for you. It is not your time, but it is not for him that you linger."_

Wanda looked at him, her childish eyes large and round and concerned. She went to speak, but Death continued. He did not need to hear her. He knew what she would say already.

 _"Tom Riddle is afraid of me. He sends others in his place, but that will not always be so. Help him, and help yourself, Wanda. Make peace with me. Help him to make peace with me."_

 _"I don't understand!"_ she cried finally, tears leaking down her cheeks. _"Why are you here? Why do you invade my dreams and create my nightmares? Why do you take away everyone I love?"_

 _"I haven't, child. I know it is difficult, and I know you will still search for Pietro. It is part of who you are. But there is someone here who will need you in time. And you will need him, whether you know it at first or not."_

 _"But this is all just a dream! Nothing but a dream."_

 _"Yes, child, but you would not dream it if it weren't the truth…"_

 _"But…"_

 _"Goodbye, Wanda…"_

And she slept in silent emptiness.

 **XXX**

When Lord Voldemort came to, aching with every breath, his shattered fragment of a soul fluttering nervously, he couldn't remember what had happened. He was lying on the grass, rather uncomfortably, and so he turned over onto his side. There, lying next to him, he was shocked to see Wanda Maximoff. When had she gotten there?

Sitting up, he looked around just in time to see a few of his Death Eaters off in the distance, flying towards him, their cloaks billowing behind them. Remembering the events that had just taken place, he was even more surprised by the presence of the Scarlet Witch. She wasn't even supposed to be there. Last he'd known, she was stuck in a cave off the coast. Bellatrix had insisted that she wasn't ready.

Well, if Bella had somehow gone behind his back, she was in for real punishment. As the first of the Death Eaters arrived, though, he saw that she was not one of them. He made a note to himself to deal with her later.

Leaning over, he checked to make sure Wanda was okay, and he was relieved to find her sleeping. She must be very determined, indeed, if she'd come here in such a poor state that she'd fallen asleep on the spot when it was over.

It occurred to him, then, for reasons he could not explain, that since that first night, he'd never really talked to her. He looked over at her dirty, tired face, and as always seemed to happen when he was around her, he was baffled to discover that he wanted to talk to her. She intrigued him, this Wanda Maximoff. There was something different about her, and despite the disappointment of losing Harry yet again, the one thing that monopolized his mind at that moment more than any other was that he was going to find out what was so special.

And with that, on an impulse that would confuse all who knew him for the rest of forever, he gently picked the unconscious woman up in his arms, and without a word, apparated away.

 **A/N:** So, what did you think? I'm not entirely sure if it's making sense and you can see where I'm going with this, so any suggestions? Are the chapters connecting well enough? Are the beginning changes in Wanda and Voldey becoming evident? Do you have at least a vague understanding of why Wanda wants to become a Death Eater? Is it way too weird that Wanda is talking to Death in her dreams? Is the pacing killing you yet? If you have thoughts on any of these or other concerns, please contact me. If I don't get any feedback, I suppose I'll just have to assume that you're all satisfied. Well, thank you again, fantastic readers, and may your days be merry and bright!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hi, readers! So, I realize this chapter's been a little bit longer in coming than most of the others, but I hope the wait hasn't been too bad, and I hope that all of you have had either a great holiday, and/or a great week! I'd like to briefly preface this by saying that dialogue is definitely NOT one of my strengths, and this chapter is a lot of that, so please be patient with me. That being said, I could really use any pointers you might have, so if you have any suggestions, please comment. I realize that most of this chapter is just character interaction, but some of it will be important, so don't think it's completely pointless. Plus, come on, we've been waiting for Wanda and Voldey to talk to each other! Anyway... hope you enjoy this chapter!

 **Chapter 4:** Pride

She felt so heavy. Why did she feel so heavy? Why couldn't she move? She couldn't breathe. Where was she?

Prying her eyelids open with all the strength she could muster, Wanda Maximoff awoke dazedly to the dim light of a silent room. Squinting, she let her blurred gaze shiver around, trying to focus on her surroundings for a few moments, before the fog of sleep slipped, and she could think again.

She was lying in the center of a soft, large bed, a thick cream quilt blanketing her warmly. Her matted hair was splayed over numerous down pillows, and her aching form sunk deep into the comfortable mattress. Swiveling her head painstaking to the left, long, dark velvet curtains blocked out any potential sunlight, framed by majestic portraits hanging on the surrounding walls. To her right, an ornate wooden door sat closed, presumably leading to the rest of the house. From beyond, she could just smell something unidentifiable, perhaps coffee mixing with the scent of something strange and ancient. Before her, her eyes finally landed on a wide, partially-filled closet, next to which was a simple black-painted door.

Well, the quilt explained the weight, at least. Untangling her arms slowly from the sheets, Wanda lifted her hands to rub her tired face. A minute of hesitation, and she propped herself against the bed's headboard, which appeared to be made of the same wood as the decorative door and bore a frightening carved snake. Fingering the edges, she studied the relic before using it to help her out of bed. She tried to stand on the lush, emerald and black carpet, and nearly crumbled under the stress before she could steady her wobbling knees. A minute of dizziness, and finally she was able to make her way across the floor and to the plain door in the corner.

She was acting on impulse rather than thought, but she had to admit she was rather relieved when she discovered that the entryway lead into a lavish washroom. A smaller door within lead to a restroom, a curtain to one side revealed an enormous, golden-trimmed bathtub, and an extravagant golden mirror filled the entire wall behind the shining sink and marble counter.

Staring into the mirror, she almost didn't recognize herself. Dark bags made worse by smeared makeup hung beneath her eyes, exhaustion lines traced her bruised and scraped features, her clothes and hair were dirty and tangled, and it made her wonder how just two days had done such a number. Looking away, she went about her business. She took a lengthy, comfortable bath, watching as the water washed the dirt and blood away, before pulling a fluffy towel from a rack at the end. She dried off and brushed her hair with a silver comb she found in a drawer beneath the countertop. Finally, she wrapped a robe around herself and walked back into the bedroom.

Only then did she allow herself to consider what might have happened and where she was. How in the world had she landed herself in such a place? Frowning slightly in concentration, she sat on the mattress edge and thought back.

And then it clicked. She'd just saved the Dark Lord. He'd just fallen from his broomstick, and she'd passed out on the grass from the strain of the day after ensuring his condition. But that had nothing to do with her current situation. She thought a little harder, and this time, another memory came, one that chilled her to the very bone.

She'd been talking with Death. Yes, it was a dream, and yes, what she'd seen and heard was crazy, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was real.

" _You would not dream it if it weren't the truth…"_

Those were the words. Death had spoken to her; he'd said the very things she'd dreaded and needed to hear. But no, she couldn't concern herself with such things. It was a dream, it must be. It must be, simply because she didn't think she could face it if it wasn't.

Pushing the vision away, she reverted back to her impulses and padded over to the closet. Though she had no plausible reason to suppose that there would be anything there for her, she couldn't very well change back into her muddy t-shirt and shorts, and so she decided to check for anything her size.

She was pleasantly surprised when she found that the whole closet was filled with nothing _but_ her size. Though her choices were limited, it seemed that someone had seen the need long before she was even awake, and had taken care of it. Rifling through the clothing, she quickly picked out a simple black dress, similar to and yet plainer than the kind that Bellatrix often wore. She would have liked a pair of pants, but in the wizarding world, she'd found they were hard to come by, and in any case, she'd take what she could get. She changed listlessly, simply grateful that it fit perfectly, then laced up her leather boots. She breathed in, calmly, readying herself for whatever came.

She almost just walked out the door, but thought better of it and strode to the window. Throwing the curtains aside, she peered out and sighed in relief and satisfaction.

She was at Malfoy Manor, where she'd first met the Death Eaters, and the view was lovely. Hedges rimmed the manicured, lime green lawn, and flowers bloomed in radiant beds, following silver sidewalks that wound around the estate. More startling were the peacocks that dotted the grounds, their imperial feathers fanning out behind them in emerald and turquoise eyes. Along the path, she spotted a figure rounding the corner. The blonde locks and proud posture left her with no doubt- it was Narcissa Malfoy. Wanda almost thought she was glancing towards her.

Not sure what she would say when she got there, but wanting to talk to someone, anyone, Wanda left the glass and made for the door, pulling the heavy wood aside and heading down a fanciful hallway lined with painted, stern faces. Down a few embroidered stairways and past many pristine and stately rooms and doors, she met no one until she'd left the manor through the first exit she discovered.

All of two steps out, she gasped when she almost knocked into a figure that emerged from just beyond her view. The boy shrieked and jumped backward, and she couldn't help but smile, if only slightly. His light eyes were wide and alert, his platinum hair virtually standing up in the air, and his pallid skin blanched even a shade paler.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Wanda said to the Malfoy boy, the one she thought was called Draco. Gulping, he wiped the shock away and replaced it with a lofty smirk, though she couldn't help but notice the pinkish tint to his cheeks.

"You didn't startle me. I just… wasn't expecting you."

"Of course." It was a diplomatic answer, but she couldn't resist a quirked grin. At that, the pink tint he was wearing flushed redder, and the boy scowled at her.

"You're lucky to even be here. If it weren't for... " he pursed his lips, paused, and then spat, "you shouldn't go wandering around where you don't belong…" He trailed off then at the look the one they called the Scarlet Witch gave him. Instead of the fury or disgust that he so thrived on from others, she simply stared at him peculiarly, slight disappointment perhaps etched in her forehead. Feeling guilty, he added roughly, looking away distantly, "I only mean that it's dangerous to go exploring in other people's houses." Almost to himself, he whispered darkly, "Especially this one."

Wanda studied him thoughtfully. She repressed the urge to read his mind then, for she knew it didn't exactly build rapport. At the same time, she sensed a darkness in his words, and she wondered what he'd gone through to radiate such feelings. She shook her head absentmindedly, considering.

Apparently, he took the movement as disagreement, and his frown deepened.

"What do you know? You have no idea what goes on here." Again, he muttered to himself, "I don't know why I bother."

He was just turning to skulk away when Wanda impulsively reached for his arm.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you. There's no need for you to leave. I'll go." She wasn't sure why she said it, but it just felt like the thing to say. Thankfully, it appeared to have the desired effect. Malfoy relaxed at her words and calming accent, before turning around and staring at her.

"Never mind that. He must've brought you for a reason. Why are you here, anyway?" Curiosity seemed to have replaced his hostility as his suspicious eyes surveyed her. The mask crept over her features, and she responded blankly, though not by any means coldly, "I'm not sure. Perhaps you could tell me how I got here."

"Maybe," he hesitated, glancing around in an almost rodent way, "I'm going this way." Wanda simply nodded, and the two headed along the sidewalk.

For a second, both were silent, and then, "I'm Draco Malfoy. Your turn."

His mannerisms were rather abrupt, but she chose to ignore his rudeness. "Wanda Maximoff. This is your family's manor, yes?"

"I suppose." Well, that was rather cryptic.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He glared sharply, then sighed.

"If you don't know, you probably shouldn't stay."

"Oh." He didn't really give her a chance to consider his meaning before changing the topic with a question.

"Why did he bring you here?" She looked quizzically at him. "The Dark Lord, I mean?"

"The Dark Lord brought me here?" She wasn't sure why she was surprised, but she didn't know what to think of that.

"You didn't know?"

"I don't know anything anymore." It was partially the truth.

"Your turn," she echoed his phrase. "Why do you think I'm here? And why don't you trust me?"

Draco just laughed, a hollow, humorless, ironic sort of sound. "Seriously? Who trusts anyone these days?" He stopped in his tracks, his orbs widening and his jaw tightening as he realized the thought he'd just voiced. He kept walking, and cautiously continued. "I have no idea why you're here, but you must be a decent witch if they want you. Or you have a debt to pay and you want to live."

"Not a debt," she answered honestly. "I am not sure what kind of a witch I am, though. I suppose you could say my magic is a bit… different."

"Care to explain?"

"Not particularly." Once more, the conversation lulled. And then, Wanda couldn't stop herself when the idea came.

"Why are you afraid of him? The Dark Lord?"

"What?" Malfoy tried to come off as indignant, but his voice waivered ever so slightly, giving him away. "Why would I fear my lord?"

"I know when you're lying. No use hiding. Don't worry, you can trust me whether you believe as much or not."

By that point, the pair found themselves at a tall, statuesque fountain, carved as the bedframe was with entwining snakes. The frozen creatures had sharp fangs and wide gaping mouths, from which lively jets of clear water spouted. At the edge of the pool, Draco slumped onto warm marble and ran a hand through the haystack on his head. Wanda sat next to him, shaded by the reptilian shadows.

It was her gift. He couldn't help but confide in her. Without knowing why he did it, he began, "Do you know what its like to be forced to do something, or you know you're going to die?" Wanda didn't say anything, instead waiting for him to continue.

"Do you know what it's like to be a pawn? To have your whole life set up for you, and know exactly what's expected, and know that you've got to do something that you're terrified of and don't want to do? Do you know what it's like to pay for everyone else's mistakes? Even the mistakes of your parents?" The sentences were pouring from him faster than the rushing fountain, and surprisingly, empathy settled into the witch's heart with his angry thoughts. She didn't know exactly what had happened to him, but the things he was saying were so familiar. For years she'd blamed her parents for leaving her, and then her brother. She's spent her entire life trying to right the wrongs in her world, and she'd never felt she measured up. And suddenly, more than anything, she wanted to know what this boy had been through.

Only then did she notice how quiet he'd become. She knew she had to ask.

"What happened?" Her tone was soft and smooth, and he flinched when she gently touched his shoulder, but he didn't pull away, simply looking up at her.

"My father failed. And the Dark Lord sent me to kill a man."

"What?" She breathed almost inaudibly, unable to grasp his meaning. Though she'd heard that the dark wizard was a murderer, she'd never allowed herself to think too deeply about it, apart from the moment in which she'd contemplated letting him fall the day before. But to turn such a young man, really no more than a child, into an assassin seemed beyond even what she'd imagined. Suddenly, she was sure that she had to know.

"May I see?" Now it was his turn to ask "What?", incredulous.

"My magic is different, remember? I can read your memories, but I won't unless you'll allow it. I want to know what happened. I can help you."

In her veins, she could feel the blood red energy pulsing with the will to know. Nothing made sense to her, she just needed to know who this Dark Lord really was, she needed to know what he was capable of. She needed to know why he would send this boy to kill, and some illogical part of her wanted to believe that seeing this memory would give her an answer to her burning question: _why did Death want her to help this demon_?

Draco recoiled from her then, as if he was frightened by the prospect of her reading his mind. Unintentionally, she recalled that first night and the words in his mind when she'd entered the meeting chamber full of Death Eaters. _Bloody hell…_ How profound, she thought sarcastically. Unbeknownst to him, she'd already done back then what she was asking permission for now. Nevertheless, his worry was understandable. Still, she found the reactions of others somewhat amusing. Though, more sad than entertaining. What was it that frightened others so much about her gift? In any case...

"I can help you," she coaxed him. "I won't hurt you. I just want to know what I'm getting into. What he's capable of."

Draco sighed, and then reluctantly nodded. He gazed at her, waiting for something to happen, and she closed her eyes, willing the thoughts to come. She sensed the boy shift in his seat uncomfortably as the usual light sprouted from her palms, but a moment, and consciousness began streaming across her mind.

She watched through pale blonde lashes as the Dark Lord came into view. His menacing face was directly in front of her, and he was giving his malicious order. "... _Kill Dumbledore_ …" the past hissed.

Then there was a closet, or perhaps a standing cabinet, and she was peering through crystalline tears at hands that worked frustratedly to fix the piece of furniture. A bird went in and out, once alive and once dead. Other small objects went in and never returned. In between times, the view raced her down twisted hallways and past angry faces. She thought she caught a few glimpses of the Potter boy, and Draco was taunting him. She also saw the Death Eater she thought was called Snape, offering to help, but Draco pushed him away.

And then, the Dark Lord returned, smiling gruesomely. Death Eaters overwhelmed her vision, and they went into a cabinet, and out an identical one, the one he'd been repairing. Up and up and up through an old, candle-lit castle, and finally into a tower.

An old wizard stooped directly in front of a pointed wand, and the wand was Draco's. She heard the taunting voice of Bellatrix, and a few other nasty voices she didn't recognize, but her attention was entirely on the man, tears again clouding her lens. " _... Do it…_ " Bella sneered.

Suddenly, Snape appeared, his wand, too, outstretched. For a moment, she thought he would save the wizard that must be Dumbledore. " _No_ ," he said to Draco simply. " _Please, Severus._ " It was Dumbledore. " _Avada Kedavra!_ " It was Snape.

And the man fell out of the window, and there was laughter, and chaos, and screaming, and Draco was running, and running, and running, before the thoughts trickled away, and all was black and silent.

Wanda opened her eyes. The memories flashed by in all of an instant. Draco was shaking. "You didn't kill him." She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, then pulled her hand away. He just stared at her, radiating with mixed emotions.

"I didn't. But I should have."

The boy wiped his eyes, then abruptly tensed. She was about to ask what was wrong, when a shadow that was not motionless passed over her frame.

Swiveling, she was met by the very person they had just been discussing, and she discovered that she couldn't speak, or even think.

Though nowhere near as frightening as he'd been flying in the night sky over that haunting town, he was still a disturbing sight in the bright daylight. After an initial second of shock, she finally became lucid enough to try and catch his emotions, and though she couldn't be entirely sure, she was simultaneously surprised and relieved to discover that he didn't seem to be angry. Though, he might just be waiting for the proper moment…

"Miss Maximoff, Draco," he greeted them coolly. Draco's eyes were wide and Wanda knew he must be terrified. Considering the memory she'd just witnessed, she couldn't blame him. Somehow, though, she couldn't feel the same, even if that would have been the logical thing. Whatever he'd heard, there was no use in claiming otherwise. She couldn't do much except try to keep calm and hope for the best.

"My lord," she inclined her head. He strangely smiled at her, and then addressed Malfoy.

"Draco, I would like to speak with Miss Maximoff. I hope I am not interrupting anything of great importance." His words would suggest that he was giving the young man an option, but it was obvious that it was an order. Gulping, Draco nodded vigorously, and got up. Glancing back at his master, he mumbled a quick thank you and farewell to the witch before hurrying down the path and around the corner.

"I take it you've met the Malfoys," the Dark Lord said conversationally as he took the boy's place on the threshold of the fountain.

"Briefly, but for Draco. I happened to meet him on the way out."

"Where are you off to, if you'll pardon my asking?"

"Oh, nowhere. I woke up and wondered at my whereabouts. I came here for some air." Her first impulse was to be cautious until she knew exactly how much of her previous conversation he'd been privy to, but then, she threw caution to the wind and said what was on her mind. "Draco tells me you brought me here."

He didn't try to deny it. "I did."

She didn't hold back. "Why?"

"Well, I couldn't very well leave you on the lawn of that muggle house. It seemed the obvious thing to do."

She felt ridiculous for asking, though the odd answer still left her speculating.

"I suppose I should say thank you."

He looked at her, but she continued to study the area surrounding her. A few meters away, a large peacock had just come into view, strutting proudly, his plumes dancing richly. Her gaze followed his unique stride.

Not sure how to respond for once, Voldemort changed the topic. "Lovely creatures, aren't they?"

"Hm?"

"Peacocks. Very imperial. Very proud. Still, there's a way about them that's mesmerizing. And yet, they live such simple lives."

"Yes," she affirmed, taken off guard by the unexpected change. "Why do you keep them?"

"Oh, they are raised by the Malfoys. But they can be a calming presence."

For a minute they were silent. Then, "What did you wish to speak with me about, my lord?"

Until that moment, the Dark Lord realized he hadn't fully contemplated what he wanted to say. Considering briefly, he therefore said the first thing that occurred to him.

"What were you doing in that muggle town last night?"

Wanda didn't know how to respond, and so she dodged the question as best she could. "I… couldn't very well stay in the cave all day, my lord."

"Then maybe I should ask why you were following us. Bella told me you needed more time."

Wanda blinked, not sure what he was implying. "What do you mean?"

A voice in the back of his mind was shouting at him to close his mouth before he could say anything he might regret, but he continued as if it were scripted. "Bellatrix told me you would not be joining us for last night's attack. I was under the impression that you were still in training, that you were not prepared."

The witch couldn't explain why, but suddenly her blood was boiling in her veins, and she was inexplicably angry.

"She doesn't think I can do this. She hardly told me anything of last night's attack. Trust me, if I had known enough, I would not have hesitated."

He waved his hand. "If you are not ready, you will have the time you need. It is difficult to become a Death Eater. It is a lifelong commitment. I would not expect you to make such a choice overnight."

In that second, she became sure of one thing, her heart racing in her chest, her fingers and eyes sparking with dangerous energy. "You underestimate me, my lord. It is a choice I have already made. Bellatrix is wrong, and you are wrong. You don't think I can do this, but I will. I am ready for my destiny."

He was surprised by her vigor, but also impressed. Still, "Destiny, Miss Maximoff? You believe in destiny?"

"I believe in the destiny that is self made. This is mine. And I have already proven my loyalty."

"How have you managed that, my dear?" He hadn't meant to say those final two words, but they'd slipped out, and he could see instantly where that might have been a mistake. The Scarlet Witch glared at him then with wrath so intense he could feel the heat, her eyes growing so molten that the color rivaled even his own slit pupils. To him, the reference had been uttered harmlessly. But to her, it was nothing short of patronizing and unacceptable. Livid, Wanda stood up.

"I saved your life, Lord Voldemort." As always happened with high emotions, her accent became very thick as she spoke. "I saved your life when you fell from your broomstick. Harry Potter faced you, and you fell, you _failed_. You tumbled from the sky, and I could have let you go. There was no one but me, and no one would have ever known. But I didn't let you fall. If that isn't good enough, if that doesn't prove me ready, if that doesn't convince you, then I don't know what will. In this disturbed world, what more can you ask for? I didn't let you _die_."

It was completely reckless, and as soon as she'd said it, she found herself wondering why she was still alive. Unbeknownst to her, she would have been killed, if she were anyone else. But in that strange moment, the Dark Lord was so stunned, and so angry, and so… so… he honestly didn't know what in the world he was going to do. He'd never met someone so brave, and so ridiculously stupid, and so passionate, and so enigmatic; he simply had no response. All his life, he'd been under the impression that the greatest power one could possess was the power to kill. And yet, this witch, this insufferable woman that he barely knew, was firmly controlling him with the power that came not from taking life, but from preserving it.

And then, _he_ was inexplicably angry as he absorbed the situation.

He rose to meet her, towering over her, his crimson eyes locking with her scarlet ones, malice and monstrous electricity flashing from wizard to witch and back. Radiating with terror, the Dark Lord's gaze seemed to bore into her soul as he addressed her cruelly.

"I wouldn't have died even then, Miss Maximoff. I would have lived, and I would be back to make you pay. You are rather fortunate that you chose to save me."

"How does that work, exactly? How can you hope to live forever when Pietro…" she choked over his name, then corrected, "...so many are dead? How is it that you have conquered Death, how is it that you can be so cold as to hate me for my loyalty, as to torture me for this?"

"How is it that you do not fear me? Do you not know who I am? Do you not know what I am capable of, what I have done? What I could do to you?"

"But you wouldn't. You won't. You…"

As suddenly as the energy had come, it was instantaneously gone. Wanda's eyes faded to their normal emerald green, and conflicted tears pooled beneath them, but did not quite escape. Voldemort's jaw was still clenched, but he'd lost all his fire.

"I believe you, Miss Maximoff," Voldemort stated finally. "You will become a Death Eater if you wish it. Forgive me for…" He looked away. Her bottom lip quivered, whether in outrage or out of hopelessness, she didn't know.

"I hardly know you," she forced out. "But I will accept your offer. Not now. I have business to attend to first." She paused, sighing submissively, her tone hollow. "Forgive me, my lord. You are most gracious not to kill me for such behavior."

"I could never hurt you, Wanda," he whispered.

"You hardly know me. Never say never."

"I will never hurt you, Wanda. I promise."

Wanda couldn't even glance at him as she hid her emotions and, without another word, strode away. Next to the rushing of the overflowing pool, Voldemort cursed himself for these unexplainable feelings, as he silently watched her go.

 **A/N:** Please don't hate me! You knew they'd have to argue a bit before they can become friends. That's just how it works... lol. Seriously, though, I hope this is making at least some form of sense, and that you don't want to just desert this story now. (If you didn't already want to.) Again, if it's not working, you know where to find me, and please do, because it would be super embarassing if I wrote a whole story and nobody understood what in the heck I was getting at. But still, you have to admit their tempers are just a little bit cute, considering where they're headed... Or is it just me?

Oh, and I almost forgot! Special thanks to anyone who has commented, favorited, followed, and even read this story! You are all my favorites, and you are the reason that I keep writing! *Passes out peppermint, since it's almost Christmas time.*

PS- Next chapter will probably be shorter, but it's coming soon. Much sooner than last time.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I'm so sorry this took forever! Thanks to writers block, finals week, and Christmas, I know I haven't posted in... well, forever. This chapter's a little bit short, and maybe a little rough, but I figured I needed to give you something, assuming that anyone's still reading this story. For those of you who celebrate Christmas, Merry (late) Christmas, and for those of you celebrating in any other way, Happy Holidays! Wishing the best for all of you, and thank you if you're still taking the time to read this! You're all the greatest!

 **Chapter 5:** Ice Blue Eyes

It would have been easy for Wanda to dwell on her conversation with the Dark Lord, wallowing in her impossible task, but she knew it wouldn't help. In any case, she had more important things to do. Something had triggered her memory during the last few minutes, and she couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to her sooner.

What had become of the man the Dark Lord murdered? After lifting him from the air, she'd simply left him lying on the curb, a lifeless corpse in the middle of the neighborhood. Though it was extremely unlikely that he was still there, she had to go back. She had to do whatever she could to help him rest in peace.

Not even stopping for her things, the Scarlet Witch walked along the path until she came to an old, wrought-iron gate. It was secured with a heavy lock, but she had no trouble in removing it. Red lava snaked into the keyhole, molded into just the right shapes, and twisted until the tumblers clicked and the bolt snapped open. She simply pushed the gate aside and went through.

She only took a few steps before realizing that she had no idea where she was going. So, as guilty as she felt doing it, she waited until one of the Death Eaters stalked by. The wizard was dark-haired and sallow, but she vaguely recognized him as one from the assault on Harry Potter, and so she briefly delved into his mind. Finding the location of the town, she was about to quickly make her getaway before he even knew what hit him, but for some unexplained reason she stopped. For a second, she thought she saw movement in her periphery, and so she paused and cautiously peered around. All was silent, so she took off.

As it was daylight, she opted for a taxi rather than magical transportation. Taking some money she always kept stored in a zipper in her boot, she paid the driver and climbed in a few blocks from the manor.

The drive was somewhat long, and the older gentlemen at the wheel rambled incessantly, but Wanda didn't care. For a while she listened, and when she couldn't anymore, she stared out the window and watched the clouds float by listlessly. She kept imagining that there was something moving through the sky after her, that someone was following her and would report her in some way. That acting on this small impulse of compassion would somehow get her killed. But there couldn't be anyone. Up there, the only things following her were the impressions of the cumulous on pale canvas.

After an indefinite amount of time, the vehicle stopped, and thanking him, the woman stepped out. She hadn't recognized the place until then, when she found herself on a bustling street. She watched the taxi pull out and drive away, and then finally, she turned to get her bearings.

The town seemed so much more alive now than it had during the terrible night. In the daylight, children raced through the gutters, laughing, while their parents yelled after them, weaving in and out of quaint shops. Couples swung clasped hands, talking and smiling, while teenagers gossiped around outdoor cafe tables. Neighbors met neighbors with friendly greetings, when only a few hours ago, a man fell in cold blood all of a few streets away.

Ignoring the looks of various passersby, and staving off paranoia, Wanda made her way along the road, in the direction of the crime zone. In no time at all, the jovial town center was replaced by houses and quiet neighborhoods, and then by old brick buildings and rotting alleys. And then, she came to the corner. She could almost see the twinkling stars, hear the vicious cursing, and sense the moment that a soul left for the infinite.

He wasn't on the cement, but deep down she already knew he wouldn't be. She stepped over to the exact spot, and cautiously placed her palm on the warm, rough surface. Nothing. Occasionally, she could get a hint from an object, but not usually, and not this time. Not knowing what to do, she sat down on the curb and held her chin in her hands. And then, miraculously, "Ma'am?"

She rotated her head to find the speaker, and she was met by a young man with thick eyebrows and an even thicker cockney accent. He was wearing an apron and holding a full garbage bag in one hand. A few meters to his right, she noted the dumpster, and realized he must work in the building behind her, probably as a kitchen hand or janitor of some sort.

"Are you alright, Ma'am?" He asked, concerned. She must appear pretty defeated if he was asking, so she plastered a strained smile on her face, and responded.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Well, if you insist."

The boy was just about to go back inside when an insane idea came to the witch.

"Do you know what happened here last night?"

"What?"

"Oh… well, never mind." She stood up, but then, he was talking.

"Oh! did you ask what happened here yesterday? Sorry, must be the accent. I did hear something about it. They say somebody…" he got quiet, and then whispered, "died… out here, last night. Don't know what happened to him. I've got a friend who claims the manager found him early this morning, and they had to call the bobbies. Place was swarming for the early shift. I just came in a couple of hours ago, though."

Wanda couldn't believe her luck. She pried, "Do you know where they took him?"

He eyed her suspiciously. "Why? Think you know him?"

"Yes." She had no reason to hesitate. It wasn't as if he could prove otherwise.

"Well, I'd assume they sent him to the coroner's office. Rumor is there wasn't any obvious cause of death. Probably had a heart attack, I'd guess..."

Now that he was talking, it was hard to get him to stop. He seemed to be enjoying his reprieve from work and a bit of gossip, but Wanda didn't have time, so she cut him off.

"Where's the coroner's office?"

 **XXX**

After fifteen minutes of "I'll get the manager," and "let me help you with that map," and "what's a pretty girl like you doing out on the street looking for a dead man," (she had to roll her eyes at that one,) Wanda was finally on her way. Down a few streets and around a few corners, she eventually found the place, mostly blending into the surrounding area, but labeled obviously with a chipped, rotting wooden sign.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and immediately heard a bell ring. From the back of the small establishment, a man with huge, circular glasses, a crooked smile, and a lab coat came in, beaming at her.

"And what can I do for you, missy?"

"I…" She sighed, knowing she'd have to lie. "I'm a student doing cadaver research. The university sent me to examine your… patient's body." She already regretted her hasty story. For one thing, she was in a town without a college or university- the nearest one was a few towns over. Not to mention, she knew absolutely nothing about medical science.

The man's grin fell, and he frowned, disgruntled. "I'm sorry, miss, but I'm not expecting anyone."

"Oh, but I was told you would be." The lie came, considering she really didn't have any other options.

"No. I'm terribly sorry, but it won't be possible for you to examine him. He's the victim of an ongoing murder investigation, and I'm afraid our policies don't allow…"

He kept talking, but the witch knew she wouldn't get any further with him. With an apologetic half-smile that he wouldn't understand, Wanda raised her hand and in a second, the man's eyes glazed as she sent him into blissful hypnosis. She sidestepped his static frame, and quickly maneuvered to the room behind him.

On a metal gurney in the middle of the space, the older wizard lay prostrate, his eyelids closed and his face pale. As she hadn't had a good look at him until that moment, she was surprised, and if she were honest, repulsed, when she saw the deformities etched into his features.

His leathery skin was lined with scars, and instead of natural hair loss, much of the grey frizzy mass seemed to have been pulled out, or perhaps burned off. A number of bones had probably been broken at some point, and not properly repaired. Worse still, a huge chunk was missing from his crooked nose. But the most awful thing was his missing eye. While the lid was shut, the concave structure made it obvious that one of his orbs was missing. Next to him, in a plastic bin, a larger, electric blue eye sat inside an odd device likely designed to keep the magical organ attached to the wizard.

For a few seconds, she studied the eye warily, not sure whether to take it or leave it. She almost screamed when the sphere swiveled to stare at her.

She was about to run out, but when she took one last glance at it, and then at the dead, she stopped in her tracks. It was probably her imagination, but when she gazed into the icy blue, she thought she could almost see tears falling. She gazed at the monstrous face, and she remembered again his final moments, and the terrible snake eyes of his murderer, the last sight he had ever seen. And then, in his silent visage, she glimpsed her brother.

Back and forth, from imagined face to detached eye. The lifeless look. The dead hero. From electric, ice blue, to electric, ice blue. They were so different, but here was another soul that evil had taken away. Where was his family? Where were the ones missing him? They were not here, just as she had not been there when Pietro left. She couldn't abandon him. She would find Pietro, but first she would take this man to someplace where his family could find the remains of the one they loved, and lay him to sleep.

And with that, she rolled the gurney, eye included, out of the coroner's place.

She ignored the feeling of being watched this time, for it must be in her head, with the obvious exception of the magical orb she was carrying. She didn't blink once as she rolled into the parking lot and sat down gently at the feet of the corpse. She couldn't take a taxi this time, and so, just before the coroner came out to see where his patient had gone, Wanda focused her mind, and lifted the cart. She soared away into the afternoon on the flying herse, thinking that this must be the strangest thing she'd ever done, and praying that no one would see.

 **XXX**

When she entered the vicinity around Malfoy Manor, she had to be particularly careful. It was risky, but she now knew where she had to go, she just didn't know how to get there. Finding another Death Eater, she read another mind, and then made her way to the only place she could think to go- the Ministry of Magic.

It was a strange place, the Ministry, from what she could gather. She was more than a little curious to discover that her options consisted mainly of phone booths or bathrooms, but the choice was clear. Considering the fact that she had no intention of actually entering herself, it only made sense for her to pick the phone booth.

The sun was setting when she finally found the right one. She hated to leave this way, but it was dangerous to even come this close when the whole world seemed to be at war. Without a message, or any sort of written explanation, she cautiously wheeled the man into the booth as best she could (the structure barely fit) and hoped that he would be taken care of. She would have sent him down, but she had no magical money, and so she had no other choice but to leave him, and wish for the best.

As Wanda Maximoff slipped away into the evening, she thought she was alone. But behind her, a shadow waited. A shadow with ice blue eyes. The shadow climbed from her broomstick, and blankly stared one last time at the wizard known as Mad-Eye Moody. She turned and watched the mysterious witch, considering what she had seen, and what this might mean in the future. Picking up her transportation once more, Narcissa Malfoy mounted to again follow. A second of silence, and she tailed the Scarlet Witch into the coming night.

 **A/N:** So, I know it wasn't my best writing, but hopefully it wasn't terrible. I'm having a little bit of trouble with transitioning between the main events of the story right now, so please be patient. This is my first full-length fanfiction. Just a warning, I may be slow-ish at posting for a couple of chapters, what with writer's block, a few other ideas I've had for other stories, and the Star Wars movies that I'm FINALLY WATCHING. (Seriously, I think I'm one of the only people left on the planet who hasn't seen them.) Not to mention, all the fantastic fanfiction I'm reading! There are so many fantastic fanfictions out there, I love it, and I'll never run out. :) Anyway, don't worry, I won't forget this story, even if I'm slow- action will pick up, fairly soon. If you have any ideas or suggestions, they are much appreciated.

Finally, thank you to anyone who has favorited, followed, or read this story! You motivate me to keep writing, and you are all the greatest! I know we all say that, but only because it's true. :) Have a fantastic week! -EEstelle

PS- Special thanks to Lyn Harkeran- love you, Bee! Without you, I would have never known the obsession that is fanfiction... in other words, my hyperventilation is all your fault... XD ! JK, you're fantastic. :)

Bye, Everyone!


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